


Strategist

by iannageorge



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, RIORDAN Rick - Works, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Atlantis, Economics, F/M, Family, Gen, Humor, Love, New Athens, Politics, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:48:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iannageorge/pseuds/iannageorge
Summary: If there was one person Malcolm could blame for all this, it was Percy.Percy had this insane idea. An extremely risky plan that Athena would never approve of. But by now, after a decade of being best friends with Annabeth, including six years of dating her, Percy, Malcolm realized, had come to understand how children of Athena operated. He knew what got them to tick...





	1. In which Malcolm encounters an aggravating sea princess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my fellow Millennials ❤](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+fellow+Millennials+%E2%9D%A4).



> _Let America be America again._   
>  _Let it be the dream it used to be._   
>  _Let it be the pioneer on the plain_   
>  _Seeking a home where he himself is free._
> 
> _(America never was America to me.)_
> 
> — Langston Hughes, 1935

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No specific warnings will be given in this book (...not even for the insipidity that is statistics).

If there was one person Malcolm could blame for all this, it was Percy.

Percy had this insane idea. An extremely risky plan that Athena would never approve of. But by now, after a decade of being best friends with Annabeth, including six years of dating her, Percy, Malcolm realized, had come to understand how children of Athena operated. He knew what got them to tick.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

It had been a sunny Saturday July morning at Camp Half-Blood. The calming waves of Long Island Sound would have driven anyone to a siesta were it not for the commotion brought about by the camp’s residents, who were currently embroiled in a game of capture the flag.

Leading one side of the game were the children of Hermes, who had quickly recruited Cabin Three. Opposing them were the children of Ares, who had fought tooth and nail to enlist Cabin Six.  

Before the game had even started, the battle had begun. Cheating had been rampant, hexes had been thrown about, and an ancient rivalry had been exploited. Already inflamed campers only escalated their jeers and taunts. Whether one could blame the juicy rivalry or simply ingroup-outgroup bias (or both), an onlooker might’ve thought there were two battles to be waged.

Add the extra rivalry to the inclusion of the Romans, the two added flags in play, and a hefty dose of pride at stake and you get two hundred and thirteen geared up demigods, satyrs, and nymphs anticipating a war that could get real ugly, real fast.

At the sound of the horns, clouds arrived on scene, turning the sky an ugly gray. With a thunderclap, rain started to pour. With Clarisse coordinating defense south of Zephyros Creek, Annabeth, Frank, and Malcolm headed north. Malcolm—invisible under Annabeth’s Yankees cap—ran towards the edge of the woods, taking down a daughter of Hecate and two children of Hermes in his wake.

Sure enough, Hermes had set down a flag near Long Island Sound. Smart perhaps, but predictable. Now if he could set up traps before anyone noticed his footprints—

A sudden force knocked him to an empty clearing. The Yankees cap flew five meters away.

“What’s up, Malcolm?” a familiar voice called behind him.

Malcolm rose into a crouch and stood to face Percy Jackson. Percy struck first. Malcolm parried his assault—but Percy blocked his counter. They got into the rhythm of a violent dance, whirling and side-stepping, slashing and whacking. Malcolm let instinct take over, catching Riptide’s arc with his xíphos and dishing some blows of his own.

The rain poured on the men and swirled around them, collecting into ropes that encircled the son of Athena. Malcolm dodged the force of water and rolled beneath it.

He rose yet again. His xíphos and wits were enough to handle Riptide, but he still couldn’t dodge all the incoming jets. And what did the water care if it was slashed by a blade?

Percy formed an opaque barrier of rain around them, blocking any chance of Malcolm’s escape.

“Don’t take this personally, okay?” Percy said. He sent ropes of water from all directions towards Malcolm. They circled Malcolm’s body and slid the xíphos out of his hand. “And don’t fight back,” Percy told him.

The water threw Malcolm towards the breaking waves in the beach.

Surprisingly, Malcolm landed softly. But before he could even think, he was pulled by the waves and dragged a nearly hundred meters away from the shore.

_Shit._

Disarmed from his xíphos, ensnared by the water, cold as hell with nowhere to turn and no one to save him, Malcolm was done for—and curious to know just how much Percy held back on all other occasions. He’d never seen Percy fight more dirty. This was just one of the times there was simply no way to outmatch sheer force.

Malcolm got his wits about him and took Percy’s advice. _Don’t fight back._ Survival 101 dictates: don’t swim against the current. The only way out was to first swim parallel to the beach.

It wasn’t easy with his cuirass weighing him down, but he couldn’t not try. The rip was about twenty meters wide, narrow enough to escape. Maybe afterwards he could find his way to the shore. That is, if—a big IF—Percy forgot about him. That didn’t seem likely. Malcolm could see his tall figure approaching step by step on the beach.

Malcolm evaluated his options. He still had his trusty grappling hook. Maybe he could use it to pull himself further away from the current.

As he reached for the device, the thought occurred to him: What if he negligently killed a fish? Or, gods forbid, an endangered turtle? And over what? A meaningless game?

And if it didn’t catch an animal, what was it going latch onto? A wave? What a joke.

And then what? Was he really going to try to outswim a son of Poseidon?

Percy’s distant figure disappeared into the water. In seconds, he rose, just a meter away from Malcolm and sat himself cross-legged on the surface, floating like a bored punk Jesus with Annabeth’s cap in hand.

Malcolm stopped swimming. There was no point anymore.

“You’re in deep water,” said the son of Poseidon before his lips formed into a triumphant grin. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

As annoyed as Malcolm was at the situation and disappointed in himself to get kicked out this early, he was impressed. Effective strategy, topped off with a solid pun. Percy had every right to be cocky. But Malcolm held back the compliment. Maybe later.

“You just wanted to take down Annabeth’s right hand, huh?” he accused, meeting Percy’s good-humored, sea-green eyes.

The wind breezed through Percy’s jet black hair as he observed Malcolm. “That’s usually me,” Percy said.

_True._ But Malcolm could still call first.

“So…” Malcolm said. “Riptide and a riptide? Fancy.”

“It’s actually a rip current,” Percy said. “People mix them up. And undertows too. Ugh. Trust me, they’re not the same. Natural rip currents are caused by the shape of the shoreline and can drag you into the water up to eight feet a second. Riptides happen in places where flow is constricted and they’re way more predictable, but they’re usually much stronger and they pull you much farther away from the shore.”

Malcolm was barely paying attention. He tried to think of something. Anything. “What a nerd.”

“Coming from a child of Athena?” said Percy. “Thanks.”

“So what are undertows then?”

“Like you can’t Google it later.”

“Why not go with a riptide?” Malcolm asked. “Would’ve made for better theatrics.”

“The theatrics weren’t worth it,” said Percy. “What did you want me to do? Hold back all the flow into the beach? I wasn’t gonna risk _drowning_ you. I’m also not going to risk _talking_ to you until you come up with a plan to escape. I’ve seen Annabeth fight and I’ve rewatched too many Kim Possible episodes with my sister to make that mistake.”

_Ya got me._

“I’ve got a challenge for you,” Percy said. “And if you’re anything like Annabeth, you’ll appreciate an interesting challenge.”

Just like that, Percy’s words held him in a vise. Malcolm wouldn’t be able to swim away freely, even if Percy allowed him to.

Percy offered him a deal: “I won’t take you to the jail. You’ll remain in the game if you do me a favor. At no cost to you.”

“No cost,” Malcolm repeated.

“I figured I could trust you.” Percy held out his hand.

A challenge that came at no cost? Percy had practically blackmailed him. (And how stupid would he be not to take advantage of the situation? Even KP never got an offer that generous.)

“You can,” Malcolm said, clasping Percy’s hand.

Malcolm was immediately rewarded with dry warmth. An air bubble encased him, shielding him from the water as Percy took them under the surface.

Percy took out a folded up paper from his back pocket. “Give this to Annabeth. Secretly.”

“That’s it?” Malcolm said, more than a little offended.

“That’s part one. Annabeth’ll figure it out.”

Malcolm eyed it warily. “It’s not inappropriate, is it?”

Percy looked affronted. “ _Bro_.”

Malcolm shrugged.

“You can open it,” Percy said. “It’s harmless.”

Malcolm took the paper and unfolded it to reveal a picture of an ancient citadel he recognized. “The Acropolis. Cool. You know, passing notes to Annabeth doesn’t constitute a challenge.”

There wasn’t even any writing—not on the front, not on the back. No marks against the light either. It was just a postcard.

_So why the Acropolis? Why a postcard?_ Malcolm’s mind whirred with possible answers: Acropolis. Athens. City. Patron. Poseidon. Athena. Contest. Saltwater spring. Olive tree. Rivalry.

“Like I said, she’ll figure it out,” Percy said.

Annabeth. Percy. _Argo II_. Athens. Acropolis. A promise.

“No, let me guess,” said Malcolm. “You want Cabin Six to team up with you.”

_But why a postcard? Why not something as simple as verbal words?_

Percy’s lips quirked up. He didn’t even look the least bit guilty.

_Oh. To show this was his plan A._ Malcolm was intrigued. _So what’s the catch?_

No. This was Percy. There was never a catch. So what was his motive?

“Why?” asked Malcolm simply. “You just don’t wanna fight Annabeth and want us to get the glory of winning together with you, or…?”

“Yeah, me. Not Hermes,” Percy said. “Or Ares.”

A shot of adrenaline flowed into Malcolm’s veins. “You mean…”

“Yeah.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but entertain himself with the thought. A short laugh escaped involuntarily before he sobered. “There are only eight of us,” he pointed out.

“And by now only—what, a hundred and fifty of them left max? Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about whether Athena could steamroll the whole camp.”

Yes. Which Athena camper hadn’t wondered about the extent of Cabin Six’s capabilities? Percy was perceptive enough to figure out that secret (unless, of course, Annabeth had told him about that).

It wasn’t like the hundred fifty or so would be expecting it anyway, right? And with their combined skill and power… _Dear gods._

“How in the hell d’you come up with this?” Malcolm asked.

“Honestly? People kept making Romeo and Juliet references ’cause of the whole parental rivalry thing, but it seemed stupid to me since Romeo and Juliet killed themselves,” he said. “As Paul likes to remind his students,” he added in a mutter. “So, I thought it’d be better to do a reverse Romeo and Juliet.”

“A what?”

Percy shrugged in his typical easy-breezy nonchalance. “Instead of killing themselves, they kill everyone else.”

And that was something that Malcolm had taken a few years to realize about him. Everyone thought Percy was selfless. They saw him as the ever-loyal lover and friend who’d always put his life on the line to save others. But they were wrong. Percy was loyal, yes, but he was also extremely selfish.

How many times had Percy demonstrated that even the wellbeing of the world wouldn’t be enough of a reward for him to counter the loss of his girlfriend? To what extreme lengths had he willingly gone not to cope with that much disutility?

Yeah, no one needed compensating variation or Hicksian demand functions to come to that conclusion.

“See, this is exactly why Athena doesn’t trust you,” Malcolm reminded him.

Percy smiled his trademark troublemaker smile before facing Malcolm with a more serious look. “But it’s also why she does,” he said.

_Huh._

“And both her judgments are in your favor,” Percy pointed out. “So which side do you want to play on?”

Insane as it was, Percy’s plan made sense. Athena would have never approved, no, but she would have probably been impressed. Percy was both crazier and wiser than he was given credit for.

But Percy hadn’t seemed to consider one thing.

“And in the end?” Malcolm asked. “There’s seven of us and only one of you. What makes you think we won’t conspire to take you down?”

“Yeah, my plan only went that far,” Percy said. “If you want to, go ahead. But I’d prefer it if we call truce and build more chariots or whatever than continue this stupid rivalry.” His gaze pierced through Malcolm. “I’m not gonna fight any of you,” he said, speaking with the certainty Malcolm would only trust from his family. It was a promise. The truth and nothing but. “I’ve had enough, even before that Hecate kid tried to brainwash me with that hate smoke potion, whatever that was. And even if you do knock me out, 99% of the time, we’d still be a team.”

Malcolm mouth quirked on a side as he nodded up at Percy. “How many times did you rehearse that?”

Percy cracked a grin, cocking his head in admission. “I guess not as much as I should have.”

But Percy had convinced him enough. Him and the rest of the cabin: Annabeth (no questions asked), Claire (the competitive athlete), Conrad (Claire’s devious twin), Sophie (wary but ultimately undeterred by the calculated risk), Zeke (thankful for finally having the opportunity to try this scheme), and Alicia (the six-year-old duckling who’d imprinted on her eldest siblings).

Through stealthy exchanges of intel and sly manipulation of their unknowing “teammates”, the group of eight executed their plan and did their own part to drive down the active soldier count.

While the Athenians carefully avoided Percy on the battlefield and dragged out Ares’s offense, Percy let Hermes sacrifice eleven to defeat Nico and Hazel alone (which, of course, only meant thirteen fewer campers to deal with) and convinced Hermes to set up a second HQ on a small ship in Long Island Sound.

The battle continued well into the night until the two official sides reached a stalemate and called truce until dawn. The truce wasn’t followed, of course (there was neither enough trust nor enough incentive not to cheat in the case of their prisoner’s dilemma), so each side took turns keeping watch, letting their littlest ones sleep.

By now, Eos had risen, opening the gates for Apollo to soon pass with his sun chariot.

Under Annabeth’s Yankees cap, Malcolm made his way from the Ares base to Cabin Three. He snuck in through the open window and heard snickering coming from inside.

Annabeth was peering at the contents on a table as she braided her blonde hair. Her boyfriend meanwhile was searching for a shirt, the tattoos he’d gotten in recent years in full display: Aνναβεθ in elegant calligraphy, a drawn-by-Estelle star (for none other than his sister Estelle), a hammerhead shark (he said it was cool), and an anchor (because he was into nautical references, but Malcolm had suspicions it meant some sort of sappy shit relating to Annabeth).

Malcolm took off the cap. “Really, guys?”

“We were actually looking at maps, though,” a now-fully-clothed Percy told him.

“Sure.”

_Looking at maps._ That was Percy’s dumb coverup nine years ago. It had become their thing. Red-faced as Malcolm had been when he walked in on fourteen-year-old Percy and Annabeth hugging each other, he made sure to whip out the phrase and satisfyingly watch Percy turn pink every time he caught the couple sneaking off to do cutesy things. Eventually, Percy became desensitized and no longer cared who caught them, but it had been fun while it lasted.

“Malcolm, I am literally looking at a map,” said Annabeth, holding up what was indeed a map with what he guessed were markings of the Hermes plan.

“And you can blame Frank,” Percy said. “Dude wouldn’t stop following Annabeth.”

So Frank knew not to trust her. But as long as Malcolm fed Percy the intel and Annabeth only collected, no one could blame her for the leaks.

“So your solution was to…?”

“Make out?” Annabeth finished. “It works every time.”

Malcolm supposed he couldn’t blame them. It was the perfect excuse. And that it had been Frank of all people? *Chef’s kiss.*  

Malcolm updated them on the developments. “I got Clarisse to reorganize, so the twins are heading to the ship now. For all she knows, it’ll be under Ares’s possession soon. Zeke, Soph, and Allie are still with Ares, but they’re by one of the flags over here by Zeus’s Fist.” He pointed to the west side of the woods.  

“So what are we three doing now?” Percy said, looking to the Athena siblings. “Finally capture a flag or keep kicking ‘em out little by little so no one notices?”

They scanned the map for opportunities.

_“Or_ we go for straight the heads,” Malcolm thought aloud, turning to Annabeth. “Plan 16b?”

“What’s plan 16b?” Percy said.

“Hidden decapitation strike,” Annabeth clarified. “We isolate the leaders and remove command and control so the teams are disorganized.”

“And they’ll probably fracture and fight for leadership,” Malcolm added, “which makes things easier for us.”

A part of him felt guilty to use nearly the same tactic that helped wreak havoc his hometown—especially since the exact point of plan 16 was to wipe out as many people as they could with so little effort. But it _was_ effective _and_ efficient.

“But let’s not kill their bases,” Annabeth said. “We don’t need them scattered everywhere. They’d just be more difficult to hunt down.”

_Good plan._ Another thing his city hadn’t been prepared for. Well, they knew that now.

“So we go for Ares first,” Annabeth said. “If I have to report to Clarisse at the base in fifteen, we could turn Percy in—”

“Turn Percy in?”

“I didn’t mean _actually_ turn you in, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth told him with her affectionate smile. “Actually, you do it, Malcolm.”

“So,” said Malcolm, “I bring you”—he looked at Percy—“to the base and tell Clarisse that you know who the traitor is but won’t talk. Frank could help so he’s there too.”

“Then I show up with Clarisse and whichever Ares/Mars honchos are there,” said Annabeth. “Three of us can take them all down, right?”

“Is there a water supply at the base?”

“Pretty sure.”

Percy smirked. “Then sure we can.”  

One sneaky ploy, two busted water tanks, and three wearied demigods later, Annabeth, Percy, and Malcolm restrained an outraged Clarisse, a betrayed Frank, a dumbfounded Sherman, and a disappointed Ellis.

_So long, Larry Hoover. Let the chaos begin._

With her Yankees cap, Annabeth left to steal Leo’s comms gear (she was a better hacker than Malcolm) and aid Zeke, Sophia, and Alicia. If all went according to plan, they’d bring the two Ares flags to the ship, leaving Percy and Malcolm to capture the fourth and final flag from Hermes.

But on their way to the Hermes base, a jet black, winged stallion blocked their path and frantically neighed.

Percy faced the son of Athena with a wolf stare that could rival those Malcolm had seen in the Great Lakes. “They took Alicia,” Percy said.

Malcolm opened his mouth.

“Ares.”

“Gods damn psychos,” Malcolm blazed. “She’s six!”

Percy relayed Blackjack’s message: “After Sophie got the flag and headed with Guido to the ship, Ares forces split up Alicia and Zeke. Annabeth found him, but they’re stuck chasing the ones who know we’re in on something. They might lead them to Alicia.”

Blackjack, bless him, had already issued an Amber Alert to other pegasi. Porkpie was apparently leading the search party and called on Guido to alert the other Athenians.

“So now we get a Hermes flag,” Percy said. “They want one in exchange.”

_As what? Ransom? Are they fucking serious?_ Malcolm held in his protest, took a moment to breathe, and prepared to get to work.

“Also, Blackjack knows where the flag is.”

For a moment, Malcolm actually relaxed. “I love your horse.”

“Tell him yourself.”

Malcolm got a nudge from a horse head in response.

As Blackjack galloped them away, Malcolm’s chest grew heavier. They were getting farther and farther away from the creek.

“Percy?”

“Yeah, I can’t. I’m drained.”

It only got worse. Though they could still see the creek, it must’ve been forty meters behind the flag, which itself was about ninety meters away. Approximately thirty campers stood in between them and their prize.

Malcolm cursed silently. Percy looked equally distraught.

They were in over their heads at this point. Alicia was missing. Who knew if Claire and Conrad overthrew the Hermes ship, if Sophie managed to make her way to reach them with the flag, if Annabeth and Zeke weeded out those on the Ares team who’d caught on?

Ah. And there it was: Athenian arrogance. Guilty of sipping the Kanye juice.

But it was only arrogance if they couldn’t find a solution. Maybe they still could. Then it was just confidence. Genius, even.

Realistically though…

What were the options? What _were_ the options? Malcolm couldn’t find any winning outcomes.

“Maybe if Tyson were here we could, but I can’t see how we can do this without backup,” Malcolm said.

Percy’s head moved up sharply. “I have a plan,” he said to him quietly.

“What do I need to do?”

“Nothing," said Percy. "We’re calling in the cavalry.”

Malcolm didn’t understand what he meant. It was literally just them. The eight of them were operating as the barest skeleton crews, the pegasi were searching for Alicia, and the hippocampi were protecting the ship. What tricks did they have up their sleeves?

Percy gave Blackjack all their ambrosia bars and Riptide and directed him to drop all that stuff into the creek before aiding the other pegasi or Annabeth. Malcolm’s eyes bulged, but he reined in his gut _Percy-what-the-hell?_ reaction. Malcolm trusted him. Percy was … creative … with his ideas. That some campers didn’t see his smarts was a dismal failure of their evaluation skills.

Soaring as low as he could, Blackjack swooped to dodge incoming arrows, and sunk their stuff into the water.

“They’re over here!” distant voices hollered. The closest five Hermes soldiers were heading their way.

“Ten seconds, Percy,” Malcolm warned. “Do you have Riptide yet?”

“Let’s stall.”

_Guess that’s a no._ “Stalling’s not really our decision to make.”

But what he _could_ do was get Percy a sword or two. Malcolm aimed his grappling hook at a camper with a medium-length xíphos that was hopefully a close enough resemblance to Riptide. Quickly disarming the fallen guy, Malcolm threw Percy the sword.

He and Percy held them back, but they were about to be ambushed by over a dozen more. Left and right, the Apollo campers were drawing their bows towards them.

Amidst the blur and the noise of Malcolm and Percy’s sparring matches, much too much water rose from the creek and formed into the figures of horses that rushed at the Hermes squad. The equine flood swallowed arrows and felled the soldiers without even a clang of a sword.

_Wow, dude. Who knew protein bars could—?_

From behind the rush of water appeared slender raven-haired woman, clad with a loose floral dress. It was a strange sight in the middle of a battlefield, especially considering her generously dipped neckline—hardly an appropriate thought given the current circumstances, but really, only a blind person would’ve missed it. She looked curiously at the flag in her hand brought to her by one of the water-horses.

The troops had diminished to a mere seven.

“Hand over the flag,” a chiseled camper Malcolm knew as Scott demanded.

“No,” said the woman.

“Well, I don’t take no for an answer,” Scott shot back. He raised his sword and charged.

“Learn to,” she seethed. Another water-horse struck a blow to his head, promptly knocking him out cold before her feet. She rolled her eyes, muttering none too softly, “Rapey asswipe.”

The corners of Malcolm’s lips ticked up. _Just who are you?_

Together, Malcolm, Percy, and the woman crushed their remaining opponents and cooped them up with a grappling hook and ropes of water.

Percy turned towards their saviour. “Thanks, Princess.”

“Anything for my little brother,” she said.

_“Younger_ brother,” said Percy before he attended to their new prisoners.

Malcolm knew a fair bit of Percy’s family tree. The woman was obviously a daughter of Poseidon, and if she really were a princess, her mother must’ve been Amphitrite. She couldn’t have been Kymopoleia, who he knew had been disowned by her royal parents. That left a single option.

“You’re Rhode?” he asked, finally fixing his eyes on the woman. “Or Lady Rhode?” he corrected.

Maybe it was the way she carried herself, maybe it was her dress, maybe both, but this lady did look regal. And dammit, she was gorgeous. (Hey, he might not have dated often, but he wasn’t _blind._ ) Her hair looked almost blue in the sunlight, all shiny and thick, and as the wind swept locks of her tresses over her shoulder, Malcolm caught a hint of black ink on her tanned skin.

Having to shift his gaze up to meet hers, Malcolm averted his eyes at breakneck speed, feeling like the world’s biggest dirtbag. (It was her shoulder he was looking at, okay? Her _shoulder._ ) When he looked back, her eyes were still on him, holding his gaze challengingly.

“That’s Your Highness to you,” she said haughtily.

_Aaaand she just had to ruin it._ Malcolm wanted to roll his eyes. He opted instead to say, “Sorry, Your Highness.” And just maybe he couldn’t quite hide his annoyance. Still, he gave her a small bow. He knew better than to provoke the gods, especially those who were ridiculously touchy about their titles.

“People usually kneel before me,” she responded, carrying the smuggest of expressions.

_Seriously? That’s how you’re gonna be?_

Rhode’s eyes flashed. Malcolm figured it’d be better to acquiesce than become the victim of a goddess’s ire. As he dropped a knee, he heard Percy confusingly say, “Dude, what are you doing?”

The princess’s stony expression cracked and morphed into one of mirth as she snickered. “I wasn’t really serious. That actually worked?”

_Oh that little_ …. Malcolm huffed as he stood. “Okay, if Ms. Hoity-Toity’s had enough fun, we have work to do.”

Rhode’s eyebrows popped up an inch, clearly unimpressed, but she changed her entire demeanor when Percy introduced him as “Malcolm Pace, Annabeth’s brother” and recapped her on the game plan.

The children of Poseidon floated their captured opponents to a makeshift jail by the creek and Malcolm attempted to busy himself with keeping on the lookout for the pegasi who’d bring them to his sister. It was pointless, of course, so he simply third-wheeled, observing the siblings.

Although Percy had grown less boyish and more handsome over the past several years ( _hello_ , jawline), Rhode still seemed relatively more mature-looking. The only similar features they shared were black hair, green eyes, and a general sense of good looks that might suggest they were siblings.

But her hair was bluer, her face rounder, her tan deeper, her eyes more blue? Or more green? Were they brighter? Were they darker? Malcolm couldn’t tell. They somehow… changed. But though the siblings’ looks wouldn’t exactly prove their relation, their interactions certainly did.

“Geez,” Percy said. “You sounded like Triton back there.”

“You take that back, Percy,” Rhode said.

Percy seemed to be holding back a grin. “Hey,” he said with his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t say it.”

“Well, that was the intention. I’m offended, by the way, that you think I would need an offering to help you.”  

“It was just to get your attention.”

“Well, I don’t want it.” She tossed him the ambrosia bars that Blackjack had dropped in the creek.

“What if I replace it with muffins?” Percy offered.

“ _That_ I will accept.”

“Yeah, we both know you’re trash at baking.”

The goddess responded with a light shove and a chuckle.

Malcolm knew Percy and his godly family were friendly, but he wouldn’t have guessed that he and his immortal half-sister were close enough to tease each other like best friends. His other one, after all, had tried to kill him.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for a call from you,” Rhode said. “When you asked for my help, I first thought it had to do with you finally planning to pop the question.”

_Whoa._ “You’re going to propose to Annabeth?” Malcolm asked.

“I’m not answering that,” Percy said.

“Which probably means you _are_ going to,” Malcolm reasoned. “I don’t know if you know this, but there’s a massive bet going on at camp.”

From what he’d heard, the odds were around 50-50 on who would propose and a majority of bettors gambled on it happening within the next year.

But if Malcolm were to do some simple calculations, perhaps employ the binomial and geometric distributions… say, a sample size of thirty recent interactions, with a probability of—what was it?—0.65 that Annabeth took the lead…

But binomial probability and geometric probability were only relevant when considering independent events. That assumption didn’t exactly hold in this case. Malcolm threw away the thought experiment.

As though Percy could see him attempting calculations, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to help you win any bets.”

“Relax,” said Malcolm. “I don’t make bets on your relationship.”

Besides, it would be unethical and unwise to bet with the insider information Malcolm had access to. According to Annabeth, the campers had it all wrong.

They continued walking in silence, but Percy’s curiosity seemed to outweigh his desire for privacy. “If you had to?” the son of Poseidon asked.

If he had to? Malcolm had always thought Percy and Annabeth would end up together, married with kids and all, complete with pets (Mrs. O’Leary already counted, right?) and a white picket fence (or whatever Annabeth thought was more chic in landscape architecture these days). It seemed like something they were bound to do, given that they were them. But a conversation with Annabeth a few months back made Malcolm doubt whether they’d tick every single one of those boxes.

What binomial and geometric distributions also didn’t account for was the fact that this was a much, much bigger event. A proposal wouldn’t be equivalent to everyday interactions. In the first place, one of them would have to be willing to take the initiative.

“It’s not something we’re going to do,” Annabeth had told him. Malcolm wasn’t sure Percy at least wasn’t going to ask—to which an irritated Annabeth had insisted, _“Of course,_ I’m sure.”

Malcolm totally didn’t get it. Were they waiting on each other? Was this too big a step for Percy at this time? Was he just trying to be some modern feminist and give Annabeth the reins? Was Annabeth hoping instead that he would take the lead? Malcolm didn’t know. This was too much drama for him. If even _their_ love life was that complicated, he couldn’t imagine what other people were like.

So, if he were being honest, he didn’t know if— Malcolm paused to choose his words carefully. “Percy, have you talked to Annabeth about this?”

“Of course.”

_Oh._ “And?”

“And we’re on the same page?” Percy said, like there was only a single, obvious answer.

“Are you sure?”

Percy shot him an offended look. “Bro, what are you implying?”

“Look,” said Malcolm. “Annabeth and I talked about it just a while back. She said it wasn’t something you two were gonna do.”

Percy laughed at that.

“I’m serious,” said Malcolm.

“I know.”

“Well, is that true, Percy?” Rhode asked. “You’re not going to propose?”

“Drop it,” Percy said.

Rhode didn’t drop it. “You’ve told me you wanted to marry her someday,” she said. “And you’re practically married already. I’ve been told you live together in the Poseidon cabin and you literally have her name inked near your heart. You can’t get any more committed than that, so why don’t you just ask?”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t want to,” he said.

“You think _Annabeth_ doesn’t want you to?” Malcolm asked. So maybe his first suspicions were wrong. But had that just been Annabeth’s tactic to stop the questioning?

Percy paused for a moment. “I was going to once,” he said. “But she didn’t let me.”

A wave of shock came over Malcolm. But was it actually that shocking? This was Annabeth.

Rhode touched Percy’s arm. “Oh, Percy. I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.

“Don’t be,” Percy told her. “Really. We’re good.”

That seemed true. Still… Malcolm wondered. He wasn’t one to pry, but maybe if he could help his sister, who seemed visibly displeased by the current state of affairs… maybe it was worth getting involved.

“Did she tell you why? If you don’t mind me asking.”

What _had_ been the problem? Timing? Hera? A general distaste for marriage on Annabeth’s part? Something else?

“It’s just… you know how stubborn she can be,” Percy said, but he seemed content. “It’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about, okay? We’re on the same page, we’re good, and that’s all you need to know. Now can we please focus on our plan? We’re in the middle of a child hostage situation right now, and if my ears are working, the pegasi are about to arrive.”

Malcolm stashed the matter as a topic to be revisited at some point.

Soon enough, Blackjack, Guido, and Porkpie flew the trio to a clearing south of the creek and took off yet again to help Malcolm’s siblings.

Hermes flag in hand, the plan here wasn’t to infiltrate the new base. A trade was a trade, as ridiculous and unfair as it was. Alicia was obviously worth way more than a flag. That the Ares team gave them such a shit offer on their part was mind-boggling.

“We’re not here to fight,” Malcolm reminded Percy and Rhode. “We’re getting Alicia out. But this could be a trap, so let’s just be ca—” 

Rhode strolled over to a pair of soldiers—Laurel, a daughter of Nike, and Mark, a son of Ares—and cheerfully greeted their astonished faces. “Hi! Excuse me, I’m new here,” she said. “Can you tell me where I can find an abducted child?”

Laurel took a moment to recover from her shock, ultimately giving not a single hoot as to who Rhode was. “The flag,” she demanded.

Percy rolled his eyes. “Have your stupid flag,” he said, throwing it to them. “Give us Alicia.”

“Put down your weapons first,” said Mark.

“When you lead us to Alicia,” Malcolm said. “We’ve already given you the flag.”

“We won’t hurt either of you,” Percy said. 

Laurel nodded at Mark. And the two of them took off running.

A jet of water burst out of a petrified seashell in Rhode’s hand, and she willed the water to slip their opponents’ weapons from their grips—but Laurel and Mark escaped nonetheless. Malcolm and Percy came to Rhode’s aid as more soldiers attacked. Springs of saltwater shot out of the ground to restrain or shoo away the approaching soldiers.

“What was that?” Malcolm rounded on the goddess.

“They’re were being dishonest,” she said.

“You jeopardized the mission. I’m trying to get my sister out of here.”

“As am I,” she retorted. “But you’re doing it _so_ slowly, so I’m helping.”

"In the short term, sure. Now, they'll just end up scattered everywhere and it's going to be  _infinitely_ more difficult to track them all down later," he hissed to her.

_Cabrini-Green all over again._

"Malcolm, over there!" Percy exclaimed.

For now, Malcolm set aside his irritation as he caught sight of a blonde girl with the messiest ponytail he'd had ever seen. Alicia put on a brave face but was clearly a bit shaken. Like she needed more to deal with than losing her dad to a drunk driver's fuck up. Did they have no conscience isolating a child from her siblings?

"Hey, Allie. Are you okay?" he asked, crouching to her level and scanning for cuts and bruises. 

She nodded. She didn't seem physically hurt, but her gray eyes were watery. She barely looked at him. "I'm sorry I got caught," she said.

Malcolm tried for a gentle voice. "Hey. No. Don't worry about that. You did great, Alicia. They just didn't play fair. Stay close to Percy or me, okay?"

"Who is that?" she asked warily. 

Malcolm followed Alicia’s struck gaze and saw the Atlantian princess at the end of it, decking yet another of their opponents. “That would be Rhode. Don’t worry. She’s on our team. Now we’re getting out of here and we’ll win this thing. Ready?” He offered Alicia a smile and a fist bump, which his sister hesitantly returned. “Come on.” Malcolm gave her the extra knife strapped to his leg.

Together, he and Alicia, and Percy and Rhode, pummelled the remaining players until not a single remaining soul there stood.

They made their way to the beach and just about whooped upon seeing the small ship resting on Long Island Sound that proudly hoisted three flags. Rhode stayed by the beach to recruit sea friends as spies and allies, and in the tranquil underwater air bubble Percy made for the Athenians, Malcolm could finally redo his sister’s hair.

With their Amber Alert cancelled, three flags captured, and dozens of enemies defeated, it seemed the tides were turning in their favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve gotten this far, thank you truly for giving this story a shot. 
> 
> I’ve been working on this project nearly every day since July 28th, 2018, so it means a lot to me. There’s a lot more to come, and I hope you’ll follow along and have at least half as much fun reading _Strategist_ as I’ve had writing it. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think. Constructive critique is welcome. I prefer the big picture stuff (e.g., plotting and planning) and I’m just trying to tell my story honestly (i.e., not in some flowery, try-hard way), but I still want to get better at words and shit. (“I’m good with ideas, not mechanics.”) 
> 
> You might be surprised by the amount of time I spent thinking about things like the perfect tattoos for fictional characters. (Too much. But no regrets.) Honestly, though, who doesn’t like the idea of Percy getting more ink? ;)


	2. In which Malcolm wins and loses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the lovely human beings that are Retainer, Mira, and StarReacher. Way to go, you three, on making me feel both so happy and so ashamed. I hope you enjoy this update and the rest to come.
> 
>  
> 
> No specific warnings will be given in this book (...not even for the insipidity that is statistics).

“Honey, I’m home,” Percy called out after they rose to the surface. He had his wide jokey grin on. 

Climbing aboard the helm, the trio were met with Annabeth on watch. 

“Hey, you.” Annabeth welcomed Percy with a quick kiss and crouched down to her little sister. “Are you okay?” she asked Alicia, who replied in the affirmative. “Are you hungry? Sophie’s got those protein bars you like.” Annabeth directed Alicia starboard to the blonde teenager keeping an eye on nine bound and unconscious campers. 

All observed the adorable Alicia—adorned with baby fat and custom-fit cuirass—plop herself criss-cross applesauce by a doting yet quiet fifteen-year-old Sophie. But Malcolm was more interested in the responses of the two by his side. 

They weren’t even that subtle. Annabeth shared a glowing look with Percy, who returned a smile and the _barest_ hint of a nod—what Malcolm had reasoned was their when-we-have-kids exchange. 

Malcolm had caught those exchanges over the past several years, especially around Percy’s little sister Estelle, but they seemed to be coming up more so now. That perhaps had to do with the fact that Alicia looked like a mini-Annabeth. So, whether Percy and Annabeth ended up married or not, it seemed pretty clear they wanted kids. 

 _Whatever. Their business._ “Noticed the flag. Good job,” Malcolm said. 

“We even managed to drive out the potential leakers,” Annabeth said, returning Malcolm’s offered high five. 

“Of course you did,” Percy said, casually throwing an arm around Annabeth’s shoulders. “You know I don’t doubt you.” He pressed his lips to her temple in the way he often did and with a wink proceeded to command the ship. 

“That man needs to stop feeding my ego,” Annabeth muttered. 

This was the gold standard, Malcolm thought. _Ladies, gents, everyone… pick a partner who believes in you like Percy Jackson can._

Leaving Annabeth to ogle her man in peace, Malcolm familiarized himself with his surroundings as he caught up with the team. 

Percy had relieved Claire from sailing duties, and the duo promptly shipped off the last prisoners on a tugboat led by hippocampi. 

Sophie and Alicia (and eventually a focused Annabeth) were then free to begin brainstorming some offensive plays over ambrosia protein bars. 

And portside by the cannons, two blonds were taking turns hissing and cussing as they stung each other’s wounds with nectar. Zeke’s cheek cuts would heal quickly, but the ugly gash in Conrad’s right (and favored) arm gave Malcolm a case of the heebie-jeebies. 

For now at least, the Athenians could take a breather to recharge, given that the ship and its surroundings were Percy-fied. 

But shortly after Claire joined Malcolm’s efforts to fix up their brothers, Malcolm’s hand went to the xíphos at his side as a flurry of blues and oranges hurled over to Annabeth. 

“Annabeth! It’s so good to see you again!” Rhode said, greeting Annabeth with cheek kisses and a warm embrace. “How is everything?” 

Following some momentary fluster, Annabeth quickly regained her composure and struck a relatively hushful conversation with the princess. 

Percy made introductions to all, and as Rhode gushed to the Athenians about their sister’s architectural prowess and the beauty of the newly renovated Atlantian palace, Malcolm decided that he could definitely tolerate the goddess. 

“I hate to bring this up, but is Rhode even allowed to play capture the flag?” Claire asked, bandaging her twin’s arm. “I mean, you’re a goddess. That doesn’t sound fair.” 

“Don’t tell me you interrupted one of my few mornings off to have me join a game I can’t actually play,” Rhode said to her brother. 

“I’m pretty sure sea nymphs are allowed,” Percy said. “If a Cyclops and the Hunters can join, why not one of the Haliai?” 

“Because Rhode is clearly far more powerful,” Annabeth said. 

“Oh, let her have fun. We’d love your help, Rhode,” Conrad gritted out, mid-arm stretch. 

“I also don’t think I’ve done anything _Percy_ couldn’t do,” Rhode said. 

“Although I could only do that stuff maybe just on a really good day…” Percy mused. 

“Sure, on a good day and perhaps without as much style, but, beautiful horses or mangled donkeys, the outcome is all the same,” Rhode said, snickering to a grunting Percy. But she ultimately agreed she wouldn’t go beyond her brother’s level. 

Given Rhode’s confirmation that a warning system of marine and equine beings was in place, the team continued their break, making sure to fuel up and apply sunscreen. It was probably better to let Ares and Hermes fight it out and dive back in later, once the pegasi and sea friends gave word as to the whereabouts of the flag. And Conrad wasn’t in good shape anyway. 

Better than bum around, Malcolm hesitantly but politely heeded Annabeth’s instructions to help set up their new friend with comms and take stock of weaponry, so he and the princess explored the lower deck. In a little tool room of their stash of hijacked weapons, communications gear, and armor, he quickly found the extra earpieces. 

“Ooh, I feel like I’m in a spy film,” Rhode said as he cautiously helped fit one of the devices over her ear, trying not to touch her. 

He almost smiled at the comment. “It does make you feel like that, doesn’t it? Annabeth’s going to program the pieces to our names. It’s activated by brainwaves, so all you have to do is think the name of the person you want to reach and then talk. Okay, is that comfortable?” 

Rhode nodded. 

“There’s also probably some armor here that fits you,” he said, looking around. 

“Oh, I’m alright, thank you,” Rhode said, straightening her dress. 

Malcolm fixed his own earpiece to himself. “Are you gonna keep wearing _that?”_ he asked. 

“Funny you say that. You seemed to like what I’m wearing,” Rhode said, entirely too satisfied for his liking. She even threw him a wink as she half-posed with her arms akimbo. “I think it’s quite nice, too.” 

Rhode took a moment to admire her outfit and Malcolm made the mistake of following her gaze as it traveled downwards, pleasing her and his lizard brain. He ignored both. 

“Your attire isn’t the least bit appropriate,” he said. 

Rhode’s eyes suddenly narrowed into slits. “Are you policing my clothing?” she said. 

“I don’t _care_ what you normally wear. I’m just saying your dress is impractical for fighting,” Malcolm told her. 

“And I saved your ass in this dress,” Rhode said. “So maybe you need to step it up instead of bitching about what I’m wearing.” But her outward annoyance dissipated as quickly as it had come. “You’re welcome, by the way.” Rhode flashed another smile. 

Malcolm remembered then that even the ancient Romans, pompous as they’d been, hadn’t encountered people so infuriatingly arrogant before they’d stepped foot on Rhodós. Maybe that trait applied, too, to the island’s patron goddess. 

Had irrationality also been a Rhodian attribute? 

She thought it was a good idea to fight in a dress. Without armor. And with her hair untied. Like, _What?_ _What are you thinking? This isn’t a gods-damn fashion show_. 

“What _is_ it with you?” Rhode said. Her eyes so quickly formed a storm. 

“With _me?_ ” he said. “Oh, I'm not the one who could’ve have messed up our play because I was so okay with throwing our plan out the window without a second thought.” 

“But I _didn’t_ mess anything up!” Rhode said. “I disarmed two of our opponents and took down five faster than you could lift a finger, thank you very much. We made it out _fine_ and we made it out _quick_.” 

“But why even take that risk?” 

Rhode stepped into his space with an icy stare—but he wouldn’t be provoked. “What’s the matter with a little risk?” she said. “You're not a coward, are you?” 

“People often mistake bravery with stupidity,” Malcolm responded.  

“Don’t you call me stupid,” she hissed in his face. “I had that under control. And risk-takers win. It’s not stupid of us to face the whole of Camp Half-Blood. What would that make you? A hypocrite?” 

“Ever heard of calculated risk?” 

“I don’t have to be a mathematical genius to know you’ve been gambling,” she said. 

This close, Malcolm could see that Rhode’s eyes changed colors from sea green to teal, reminding him of the way that waves shimmered as they reflected light. Greed glinted out from some sort of deep green or blue. 

“But maybe,” Rhode said, “maybe the gamble’s worth it for that chance to reap such glorious rewards.” 

If Rhode agreed, maybe this entire plan _had_ been a terrible idea. 

Or was she just goading him? To what end? To get him to admit she’d helped? To get him to—?

Movement caught his peripheral vision. She crossed her arms. 

And with a rise of her chest—maybe a little too noticeable to be unintentional—came a surge within his, as he wondered _how fucking serious_ she was if she truly were attempting to toy with him. 

But as Rhode grew yet nearer, her sea eyes held Malcolm’s captive. He hadn’t finished the puzzle. Really, what color _were_ they? _What… color…?_  

A cleared throat snapped Malcolm out of daze. _Stupid ADHD._ (Yeah, that was it.) Malcolm immediately distanced himself from the sea goddess and turned to face his savior. 

By the doorway stood Percy, his eyes darting back and forth between his sister and Malcolm as though watching a ping-pong match. The son of Poseidon’s brows shot up. 

“We were just, um…” Malcolm tried to explain. _Yelling at each other? Crap._

“Looking at maps?” Percy asked. His innocent tone was betrayed by a conspicuous, teasing smile. 

Malcolm just stared and offered no response. Beside him, Rhode rolled her eyes but ultimately strode off in triumph to the upper deck. 

“Sorry, I guess,” Percy told him, looking genuinely regretful. 

“No. That’s not—” Malcolm sputtered, feeling even more red in the face. 

“Geez,” Percy mumbled. “You two met less than an hour ago and within three minutes of alone time—”

“We were _not_ — I didn’t even do anything. It was her—” 

“Uh-huh.” Percy took stock of the tools, weighing a sword, observing a spear, peeking under a shield…. 

“This _really_ isn’t the same thing,” Malcolm said. _I was just… trying to figure out what color her eyes were._

Like that sounded any better. 

“Okay,” Percy said. “I just came in to check on our smoke grenades. Alicia wants to use them.” 

Still a tomato hue for no good reason why, Malcolm gave him an earpiece and helped him find the weapons. When Percy failed to take the air of awkwardness with him up the stairs, Malcolm was left to mindlessly busy himself with organizing the scraps. 

What was it about Rhode that annoyed him? Her carelessness? (Sure.) Her pride? (Did she say or do anything he didn’t believe to be true about her or himself, though? How would this compare to Athenian arrogance?) Did his cortisol levels rise as a result of some purely biological-level attraction? (Possibly.) Or was it annoying that she _knew_ she was attractive? (No, of course not.) 

Static buzzed by his right ear. “Testing, testing. Team meeting, Mal,” came Claire’s voice. 

“Yeah, I’m coming up.” 

Malcolm hoped to the gods his cheeks weren’t still as heated as they felt. 

Under the glare of the sun, Percy and Rhode lounged carelessly on the side of the ship, and the Athenians scattered nearby around snacks on the floor, with Annabeth distributing sunscreen. 

“Any updates? Do we wanna get back out there yet?” Malcolm asked. 

“We have everyone on the lookout,” Percy said. “Pegasi, hippocampi, water spirits, fish…. And Rhode and I are here. We can probably still chill for now and let Hermes and Ares fight each other until we get some news.” 

“They could join forces if we let them stew for too long, couldn’t they?” Sophie asked. 

“I think that would be overestimating them,” said Annabeth. “But we should figure out how we might want to address that. Alicia suggested we blitzkrieg them with smoke grenades before going in.” 

“Just not where the flag is maybe. They might move it then,” Malcolm said. 

“Plus, it’d be better if they think we’re heading someplace else,” Conrad added. 

“Yeah. So let’s just make sure we stick to the plan or operate within reasonable deviations from it,” Malcolm said. 

“We should also make sure we’re not being uptight,” Rhode said flatly as she picked at the chipping polish on her nails. “That’d simply kill all the fun, making this a worthless quest.” 

“It’s also important,” Malcolm said, “to be wary of such a haughty att—” 

“Oh, you think I’m a hottie?” Rhode said, head cocked. She smirked right at Malcolm. 

“I said _haughty_ and you know it,” Malcolm said forcefully. 

Claire nudged Conrad’s good arm. “Are you getting a sense of déjà vu?” 

“Dear gods. This doesn’t need to happen again,” Conrad said. “We know how this plays out. This is stage one.” 

“And if history’s any indication, next is to just go get a room and hash it out,” Claire said, receiving in chuckles and snorts from Malcolm’s other siblings. 

“Yeah,” Sophie agreed. “Just not Cabin Three, though, because Percy and Annabeth have already booked it.” 

Half the couple responded with an eye roll. The other half pretended no comments were ever made. 

“Nah, they go in the lake to do that,” said Zeke. 

“Please. They do it everywhere,” Conrad added. 

“Do what?” Alicia asked. Everyone seemed to forget that there was a precocious six-year-old in their company. “Is this about the strawberries?” she asked suspiciously. 

 _Oh no._ Poor Alicia was probably even more confused now. 

“Strawberries?” Rhode asked. 

“Ya,” said Alicia. “I heard Mal talking to Annabeth about catching her and Percy eating strawberries. But I don’t know. It seemed like they were lying about it.” 

“I’m sorry, what did you say? What about strawberries?” Percy said. 

_Stop. Just stop._

“They were talking one time,” said Alicia, “and I remember I heard Mal complain that he would have to hear you and Annabeth having strawberries again.” 

That had been just over a month ago, when Annabeth and Percy moved back from New Rome. Malcolm told his sister something along the lines of: _Get some. Get all you want. But, for the love of the gods, when I have to get to you when someone’s looking for you, I just don’t want to hear you doing it. Again._

“Huh? How can he hear us having s-strawberries?” Percy just about squeaked out. Embarrassment turned into amusement. “Strawberries?” 

 _Hey. Alicia had just walked in. It was the first thing that came to mind._ Outwardly, all Malcolm could do was sigh, try not to meet his little sister’s eyes, and figure out how to worm his way out of this topic. 

“I don’t know!” Alicia exclaimed. “And I asked them what was so bad about strawberries, but Annabeth said they _weren’t_ bad. She said she likes strawberries.” 

Everyone stared at Annabeth. 

“Wow,” said Zeke. 

Even Percy questioned her with look and a restrained laugh. 

Malcolm wished he could say that Annabeth’s past attempt at making him uncomfortable would come back to bite her now, but she looked quite poised. 

“What?” she said. “Did you want me to lie?” 

“I thought they’re healthy,” said Alicia, “but Mal said to be careful because there could be ‘negative externalities,’ which I think means something like ‘unintended consequences’. So I did some research about strawberries. I found out that they’re mostly healthy, but not as much as other fruits. They’re apparently high in sugar, so you should beware of, ähm, tooth decay and sugar crashes.” She counted the side effects on her small fingers. 

Malcolm couldn’t help but smile. She was such a smart cookie. It was cute how she was lecturing everyone about this, even if she didn’t fully get the concept of externalities.

“Oh, and Ainsleigh from the Demeter cabin told me all of Camp Half-Blood’s strawberries are organic, but I found out that almost all strawberries produced in America are made using pesticides. There’s something called fum—ähm—fumi—something with an ‘F’.” 

“Definitely an F involved,” Conrad said. 

_Not helping, bro._

“Fumigants,” Conrad then supplied. 

_Still not helping._

“Fumigants,” said Alicia. “And they’re _really_ bad. They’re these gases that are put in the soil and they hurt or kill everything they come into contact with. Farmers started to use fumigants after some researchers used the tear gas left over from World War I in experiments. So it’s mostly bad for the people growing the strawberries. But also,” she said, enrapturing everyone, “if you have too many strawberries, you can get upset intestines…. If you know what I mean,” she added in a loud, sneaky whisper. 

_Oh, sweet summer child…_

“That’s all I know,” she said. “But some things still don’t make sense.” With furrowed brows, Alicia resumed her ambrosia nibbling. 

Florian Dietrich must have told his daughter that all babies sprung from their mother’s heads. There was no way she wouldn’t have otherwise connected the dots. And while Malcolm didn’t want it to be him to tell Alicia about the birds and the bees, his siblings had already pushed the duty on him, arguing that it was the responsibility of Cabin Six’s head counselor and oldest resident. (It was a good excuse, but it just wasn’t fair.) 

“Fascinating,” said Rhode, jolting him from his thoughts. “Well, in any case, strawberries at least seem more appetizing than cherries.” 

A loud grunt escaped the throat of the preteen Zeke, while spit threatened to burst out of Sophie’s mouth. 

“Excuse me, _what_ are you implying?” Malcolm said. 

Rhode crossed her arms. “Oh, I’m not _implying._ I’m _saying_ you’d l—”

“Rhode. Malcolm. Please?” Percy said. “We better not implode just because you two can’t keep your hormones in check.” He wore an infuriating and seemingly knowing look. 

 _Just_ no _, Percy._ There was nothing _to_ know here. With his eyes, Malcolm sent a “cut it out” to his siblings, who had the wits to look at least partially remorseful. 

“We’ll have this in the bag within the next several hours,” Annabeth told him pre-protest. 

 _Right._  She probably couldn’t tell off Rhode. That just pissed him off more. 

“You can argue all you want later,” Percy said. “Preferably not, though. But right now, we’re a team. Alright?” 

The butting heads grudgingly took heed, and an awkward silence followed before Claire initiated a tepid discussion on predictions as to what their opponents were up to. 

Malcolm, meanwhile, tried to ignore Percy and Annabeth’s whisperings, and opted instead to join his siblings in a muscle stretch as well as take turns using the aphedrṓn _(Ah. The wonders of a ship._ How comforting it was to have access to a real, private toilet during capture the flag.). 

A good five minutes after Malcolm welcomed a conversation with Sophie, who wanted to update him on her revised study plan for the upcoming academic year, Blackjack arrived on the scene, bearing news of their opponents. 

Apparently, the eighty remaining opponents were dispersed throughout the grounds, and the fourth flag to be captured was held south of Zephyros Creek by the old entrance of the labyrinth. 

The team of nine decided to let the pegasi storm the strongholds with smoke grenades and to split in three groups. Now to allocate members to teams while distributing experience and injury…. 

Malcolm mentally slotted the restrictions and possibilities into the obvious buckets. 

Percy would protect the ship and the three flags with sea friends. Alicia could join him if she wanted; she would be safest on board. 

Meanwhile, at least two groups of the rest would round in on the forces protecting the remaining flag. 

Conrad and Claire would, for sure, would comprise a team, maybe with another sibling—someone other than Annabeth and Malcolm. _Sophie or Alicia then, if the twins needed._  

That left Zeke, Malcolm, Annabeth, and Rhode, which seemed like overkill. So perhaps—

“I could help eliminate the rest of the enemy and divert attention away from those capturing the fourth flag,” Rhode suggested. “I don’t even have to be near a creek. I have the petrified sea shells.” 

_Smart._

In that case, then maybe do PA, CCZ, MS, so Ann—

“Malcolm, will you go with Rhode?” Percy asked. 

Malcolm refused to look at the goddess. 

“You’re the only one who knows how Rhode fights,” Percy said. “And with your overall experience, you two can go alone. We won’t need any more of us.” 

And that was how he got trapped. 

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

**PART 2 OF CHAPTER 2 WILL COME.**

_This chapter isn’t finished. The last difficult bits of the last 60% or so are still being written and edited, but seven months have passed since chapter 1 (omg, I’m horrible!) and I’d rather share what I already have than not publish anything until maybe February. So here’s what: I won’t split up the 30 chapters, but I’ll allow myself to publish the future ones in halves. I’d essentially be publishing sub-chapters._

_I’m doing this because there have been multiple(!) people who have reached out even after half a year, asking for more content. I am still trying to wrap my head around your support. It means so unbelievably much to me. It feels unreal. I see your words, I’ve read them over and over, and I'm still trying to process them. And I am so thankful to you readers. You make this project even more fun with the feedback you give and the back-and-forths we have. And you’re guilting me enough to hold me accountable! I appreciate that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The patient will be rewarded at 30. 😘
> 
> Delphians are warning of drama on the 13th. ⚖️


End file.
